“I made one this time,” replied Cabal sharply, distraction making him snap. “I’m only human.”
The coughing laugh again. “How nice for one of us.” The pause grew until it became embarrassing.
“My proposal. I’ve — ”
“I’m hungry,” the thing interrupted. “How long have I been down here?”
Cabal did the calculation in the time that it took to blink. “Eight years. A little over.”
“How ‘little over’?”
“Thirty-seven days.”
“Eight years and thirty-seven days.” The thing thought for a moment. “I’m very hungry.”
“I’ll find somebody for you,” said Cabal impatiently. “Can we get on now?”
“You’ll find somebody for me?” The laugh was losing the coughing element, but only to replace it with a hard cynicism that Cabal found far more threatening. “Have you any idea how cheap that makes you sound? From amateur necrothologist to pimp. You have gone up in the world.”
“Necromancer,” corrected Cabal without thinking, and immediately regretted it.
“Don’t give yourself airs. We discussed that, remember? To get that sort of knowledge you’d have to … Oh, Johannes. You didn’t?” The thing gasped with disbelieving joy. “You did! You idiot!” The thing started to laugh, a full-throated laugh that made it double up with glee. “You moron! Nothing’s worth that.” The thing rolled around in hysterical laughter, too hysterical for comfort.
Cabal’s lips had drawn into a thin line. “It was necessary.”
“For what?” The thing was on its back, the laughter slowly ebbing. “For what? You’ve no idea why you do this anymore, have you?”
“The same reason as ever,” said Cabal quietly. The last dregs of laughter died abruptly.
“It’s been over eight years, Johannes,” said the thing disbelievingly. “You’ve even made the sacrifice. I thought you must have failed.”
“I haven’t tried yet. I have to be sure I can succeed. There’s no second chance. It might…” Cabal faltered. “It might already be too late.”
“I can’t help you. It’s already too late for me. You might as well lock me up again and walk away.”
“No,” said Cabal firmly. “I need your help.”
“The last time I helped you, I ended up with an extended tenancy in somebody else’s crypt. Y’know, I don’t feel really very motivated to help again.”
“I think you should.”
“What? Help you or feel motivated?”
“Both. I think I might be able to reverse what happened to you.”
“You think you might. Boy, positivism like that has just got me fizzing with enthusiasm. How?”
“The … disease … that you were infected with contaminates the soul. I’ve had a lot of experience with that area recently, including the authorities that deal with them. I might be able to get you a cure.”
“There’s that ‘might’ word again.” The thing sighed. “All right, what do you want me to do?”
“I’ve …” Cabal looked for the best way to phrase it, but they all sounded ridiculous. “I’ve recently come into the ownership — temporary ownership — of a carnival.”
The thing looked at him with open disbelief. “You? You? A carnival? They haven’t changed the definition while I’ve been away, have they? A carnival is still a place where people go to have fun, isn’t it?”
“I believe that’s their purpose.”
“With all the best will in the world, Johannes, you’re as much fun as a leper at an orgy.”
“Why are all your similes sexual? That always irritated me.”
“You’ve answered your own question. A carnival? What possessed you to buy a carnival?”
“I didn’t buy it. I’ve just borrowed it. For a year — less now. It’s part of a wager.”
“A wager. Will wonders never cease?” The thing shook its head. “You don’t bet, you’re no fun. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“The wager is — ”
“No, don’t tell me. Let me work it out. I’ve had little enough to amuse me all this time. The highlight was the spider races. I used to eat the losers. Then I’d eat the winner so he wouldn’t get cocky. Anyway, let me see if my brain still works.” It paused, deep in thought. “You’d never have made a wager unless it was for something that you wanted incredibly badly from somebody who would never willingly part from it. So whoever this other party is must be the one who can’t turn down a pleasing bet. They must have made the terms — you’d never have suggested something involving a carnival. That suggests somebody with a sense of irony — that word again — or at least a sense of petty sadism. Who does that remind me of?”
It didn’t need to think for long.
“Oh, Johannes,” it moaned in exasperation. “You utter idiot. This is to get your soul back, isn’t it? Don’t you know anything? You can’t beat him. He only bets on certainties.”
“So people keep telling me,” replied Cabal, growing exasperated himself. “Well, I say ‘people,’ but that’s a fairly loose term. I need my soul back. That’s not open to negotiation. I took the only deal he would offer. Take it or leave it. I took it. Perhaps he can’t be beaten. I don’t know, nor shall I until I give this the best I can. And if I fail, it won’t be through lack of will or defeatism setting in. I’ll be able to look Satan in the eye and say, ‘I did my best, and it came pretty close. And while you just sat down here on your fat, sulphuric arse, I stretched for the impossible, so don’t imagine for a moment that this is your victory, you smug, infernal bastard.’” He stopped, breathing heavily.
“Well,” said the thing, “I’m glad you’ve got your gracious loser’s speech all worked out in advance, because you’re going to need it. What exactly are you supposed to be doing with a carnival anyway?”
“It’s one of the diabolical carnivals, like the Dark Carnival or the Carnival of Demons.”
“Does this one start with ‘D,’ too?”
“The Carnival of Discord. It was mothballed, apparently for reasons of internal politics. Can you believe it? One would have thought immortal beings would have better things to do.”
“Pointless and time-consuming. Seems perfect for passing the millennia. Carry on.”
“The wager is to garner a hundred souls in a year.”
“A hundred.” Cabal noticed something unfathomable in the thing’s voice. “A hundred souls.”
“I know. It’s a tall order.”
Cabal thought he heard the thing sigh.
“So why are you here? Why aren’t you tearing up and down the highways and byways relieving the great unwashed of their souls for, I assume, the usual beads and mirrors?” it said.
“I … don’t actually have a working carnival, per se. I’ve got a lot of equipment in a fairly poor state of repair, and the wherewithal to fix it up and provide staff.”
“Sounds lovely. Don’t forget to send me a Kewpie doll.”
“A what?”
“A Kewpie doll. A cheap doll that you can give away on the concessions as a prize.”
“Concessions to what?”
The thing shook its head slowly. “You’re going to have to rewrite your loser’s speech, Johannes. Get rid of the bit about coming pretty close. You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re doing.”
“I know,” Cabal accepted. “That’s why I need you. You know what goes on in places like that. I don’t. I need your expertise.”
“Expertise? I never worked on anything like that.”
“But you visited some. I remember that you visited some.”
The thing heard the note of desperation in Cabal’s voice. Somewhere deep within itself, something human softened just a little. “Well, yes, I went to carnivals whenever I could. Used to hang around them. Even considered joining one. Perhaps I should’ve. I wouldn’t be here now.”
Cabal shrugged. “For all the good it does, I’m sorry I left you. I thought you were dead. Or worse.”
>
“Right on both counts,” said the thing bitterly. “I still don’t see why you’ve come to me, though. So I visited a carnival or two. It hardly makes me an expert. There must be people who can be hired to do this, who actually have some real experience?”
“I don’t think that degree of knowledge will be necessary. In many respects the carnival will run itself. It has few overheads — no wages, and the prizes, food, and drinks are provided. We don’t even have to worry about taxes, as the place will cease to exist before the end of the next tax year, and — despite their reputation for tenacity — I doubt even tax collectors will descend into the Infernal Pit just to collect the revenue. What I really need is somebody who understands people. What they want when they come to a carnival. Besides, finding somebody with a better curriculum vitae might well founder on the vexed ‘Incidentally, the carnival’s sponsored by Satan, and we’re far more interested in stealing a hundred souls than in making money’ issue.”
The thing grunted in amusement. “I take your point.” It crouched in silence for some moments, before raising its head to look Cabal in the eye. “Do you really think you can undo” — it gestured hopelessly at itself — “this?”
Cabal found he couldn’t lie. Not this time. “I don’t know. But you have my solemn word I’ll try. I think I have an insight into your condition that has only recently been vouchsafed to me. I’ll try. I’m sorry. That’s all I can promise.”
The thing looked closely at him and, after a very long moment, smiled. A rapacious smile to be sure, but one Cabal knew was honest. Even so, the sight of those yellow-white teeth and the thought of what flesh they’d torn made him uncomfortable.
“That’s about the only thing I ever admired about you, Johannes. You’re a man of your word. Or at least you used to be. I’ll take the risk that you still are, soul or no. Very well, I’ll run your carnival for you. Decide what’s fun, lose what’s not. That’s what you want, yes?”
“Yes, exactly.” Cabal couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. “I need somebody to attend to the day-to-day …” The thing looked hard at him. “I’m speaking figuratively, of course. The diurnal? — nocturnal? — nocturnal running of the carnival. While I attend to the winning of this ludicrous wager. Are you agreeable?”
“Not as a rule, but, yes, you know me, anything for a laugh.”
“Excellent. There just remains one thing. The matter of my personal safety.”
The thing’s eyebrows raised in all innocence. “Why, Johannes. Do you really think I’d hurt you?”
“Yes,” replied Cabal levelly. “Sitting down there in the darkness for eight years …”
“And thirty-seven days.”
“… may have made you feel uncharitable towards me. You may have thought I was somehow responsible for what happened. To you.”
“Oh, heaven forfend that I have such unpleasant thoughts. Just because I was out here in the first place at your insistent request, went down here in the lead because I was ‘more sure-footed,’ was attacked by something thoroughly unpleasant thanks to your incompetence at keeping up with whether the clocks had gone forward or not, and then, in my moment of need, was abandoned. Just because of all this, you think I might have some sort of grudge against you? Dear me. How unkind. I’m quite hurt.”
“Spare me your mordancy. I need your assurance. Otherwise, I’ll just close this door and find another partner. What do you say?”
The thing looked at him with an air of quiet amusement that Cabal didn’t like at all. “What do I say? Let me put it this way.”
The thing blurred. Cabal had a momentary impression of something dark shifting through the light beam far too fast for his eye to register, and suddenly he was on his back with the thing on top of him, his arms pinned to the ground. It had travelled up the twenty feet of steep steps in the pause between exhalation and inhalation. Cabal gulped. He had an awful feeling that might be the last time he might ever gulp, so he did it again in an attempt to calm himself.
“That,” said the thing, nose to nose with him, “is what I say. I could have killed you at any moment since you opened the door. I could have torn your head off and sucked your kicking corpse dry.
“But, despite everything, I’m a reasonable man. I waited to hear why you’d come back after such a long time, when anybody else, even if they were as terrified as you obviously were, would at least have come back at daybreak, when they knew they’d be safe. Would have at least made the effort, even if they knew it was probably hopeless.
“Well, I’ve listened to your deal. A deal. You arrogant little shit. If you had any way of reversing this, you should have come back here to offer it to me with no strings attached. There’s only one thing preventing me from killing you right now, and next time it won’t. Believe me.” It leapt easily to its feet and stepped away. “You have your deal. But that’s all you’ve got. I run this carnival for you, you reverse what happened to me, I walk away.”
Cabal climbed to his feet more slowly. “I thought your clothes would probably be in poor condition by now,” he said, studiously pretending that nothing had happened. “Here are some new ones.” He opened the carpetbag and unrolled a suit and shirt from it. The thing took them, looked critically at the cut, sighed, and started to get dressed. “I’ve also got some toiletries. A comb and brush and some shaving kit.” A thought occurred to him. “You do cast a reflection, don’t you?”
The thing, now beginning to look more human, glanced at him with disgust. “How should I know? Give that here.” He examined himself in the mirror. “Seems to work perfectly well. Another old legend bites the dust. Good grief, I’ve hardly aged. Handsome dog. Still look terrible, though. Ill.” He looked meaningfully at Cabal. “I need feeding.”
Cabal backed away. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
The thing looked at him and smiled slightly. “I said I wouldn’t kill you. You’re not going to die.”
“If you infect me, I won’t be able to help you!” said Cabal urgently.
“It doesn’t work like that. None of the children changed, remember? It has to be a reciprocal thing. It’s the blood mingling that spreads the infection. I just wish I’d thought of that before I tried eating Sophia.” Cabal was looking for the lichgate and was obviously planning to run. The thing stopped following him and spread his hands. “Look, what’s bothering you? It’s the homoerotic aspect, isn’t it?”
Cabal was running. “Well, don’t flatter yourself,” shouted the thing after him. He had been heterosexual before his unfortunate change in circumstances, and now he had doubts that he was even that. “It’s just a transfusion, for crying out loud.” Cabal had almost reached the gates. “You always were such a nuisance,” said the thing to himself, and blurred into motion.
* * *
It took slightly longer to get back to the train than it had to get to the Grimpen Burial Ground, as they’d only been able to travel at night. Eventually, the low hills gave way to the marshlands, and soon they were close to the disused rail spur. Even at a distance, they could see the long ridge rising above the surrounding land, and the flare of work lights in the middle of the obviously thinned copse of trees. As they got closer still, Cabal pointed out the train itself, its dark bulk looming ominously along the length of the earthwork.
As he spoke, he absent-mindedly placed his hand on the twin puncture wounds over his jugular vein. He had been relieved to discover that he was still able to go around in the sun with only his hat and dark glasses for protection, rather than the coffin lined with the soil of his homeland that he had feared. Even the detail of the coffin had turned out to be an old wives’ tale; Cabal’s travelling companion had been happy to sleep anywhere during the day, just so long as no ray of sunlight had been able to touch him.
As they got closer still, they started to make out more details. The trees blocking the train’s access to the main line had been chopped down and the stumps torn up. Many of the other trees in the copse had also been felled.
The woodpile on the train looked impressively high. The logs would be green and damp, but at least they would fuel the train until it could get better supplied. Great naphtha torches had been thrust into the chippings of the rail bed, flaring into the night sky. Here and there, figures worked diligently and without pause. Bones had created some extra personnel of his own volition. Cabal wasn’t sure if that was good or bad at first, but, given the scale of the work, it couldn’t possibly have been done in time if Bones had only had the dubious services of Denzil and Dennis to call upon. Bones had done the right thing, he concluded.
“My God,” he heard his companion sigh when he saw the locomotive close up, and he was secretly pleased. Bones and his workers had done a magnificent job. The demoniacal locomotive had been carefully cleaned and repainted. The black was so intense that it was hard to say where the train stopped and the night sky started. A thin red line, the colour of venous blood, ran along the side of the boiler and detailed the cowcatcher and smokestack, the only concessions to colour. But it was the first car after the fuel tender that caught the eye. Painted in reds and yellows against a blue-and-black background, the name of the carnival curved and twisted in extravagant fairground curlicues, ornate yet instantly readable. His companion stopped and laughed.
“You were very confident, Johannes,” he said.
“I knew if I couldn’t get your help it was a hopeless case. Alternatively, you’d kill me. Either way, it couldn’t do any harm to anticipate.”
Bones spotted them and stepped down to the edge of the track. “Hi, boss! How do you like her?” He gestured up at the board. “‘The World Renowned Cabal Bros. Carnival,’ just like you asked.”
“Excellent work, Mr. Bones. I knew I could rely on you. Incidentally, I’d like to introduce …”
His companion stepped forward, smiling, and held out his hand to Bones. “Horst Cabal. Delighted to meet you.”
CHAPTER 4
in which Cabal applies himself with mixed results
Johannes Cabal sat at his desk and watched his blotter rock. Across from him, a large clothes chest lay in the angle of the wall. It was long and exactly the sort of furniture that makes avuncular uncles — the worst kind — point and say, laughing, “Ey up! Have you got a body in there?”
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